The Final Battle
by Lykosdracos
Summary: The SERIES finale of Angel- the last episode, points of view for all the MAJOR characters. My tribute to this phoenomenal, wonderful, much-missed show
1. Spike

Final Battle

Spike

Authors Note: **anguished scream** Angel?! Why?! Its such a damn good show!! This is my tribute for it, the lasting memory of a show that wont ever be equaled. Point of views from all the main characters in the show, based on the last episode of the series…

In only a few short hours, the battle would start. The battle that no one would walk away from except maybe a lot of the enemy. He snorted in disgust and chugged the rest of his whiskey down.

What a joke, him going off to 'fight the good fight' and save the world. Again. It was at times like these he could almost hate himself. For the longest time he'd been known as William the Bloody, Spike the second terror of the world. Ravisher of the innocent and destroyer of the righteous.

Now, with five others, he was going to face the Apocolypse. It was really quite funny, the humans had no idea of the peril they were in. Stupid blighters, would they care if they knew? Or would they hide inside their comfortable houses and quiver in fear.

Spike ordered another and wondered how the world had turned to such shite. It used to be easy. Go out, find a victim, drain said victim of blood, move on. Buffy was the cause of all this, had she just minded her own business and kept away from his lair… no, he couldn't say that.

None of this was her fault, screwing the Immortal was, but he'd much rather turn his thoughts to more pleasing images. The all-out brawl that was about to commence, for one. That would be a fight to remember, he'd be damned if Angel Pinnochio'd instead of him. Literally.

"Haven't you had enough?" the bartender asked counting the twelfth whiskey, rum, tequila, and gin that had gone down this man's throat.

"Hit me, mate." His eyes were still clear, the only trace of drunkenness was the way his slightly accented words slurred. The bartender shrugged and poured another, it was on his tab and hell, who was he to forsake profit?

An hour later he stepped up on the dimly lit stage for a poetry reading. Why not give it a go, before he was William the Bloody, and Spike… he had been known as William the poet. An idiotic ponce with dreams in his eyes, thank hell that was over now. But if he was to die tonight, he wanted to bring him back. For one glorious moment he'd be the famous poet.

Applause screamed from the audience and Spike grinned. The black duster jacket, dark clothes, and beer in his hand; he was the epitome of what these people had come here to see. The poetry that he recited through half-closed eyes brought them back to days when wenching, drinking, and carousing ran rampant.

He painted them a picture of utmost evil, redemption, and finally lost love. Spike felt alive, he couldn't have felt more so unless the dead thing inside his chest started to beat.

He looked down at the little baby cradled in his arms. The intelligence in his expression, the beat of its pulse against him. He'd die trying to get it to safety.

Spike knew the irony of this moment, he was bloody saving a pure innocent for crimeny's sake! What had happened to the hell-for-all rebel who roamed the streets and didn't give a damn? He'd become part of a team, that's what.

All for one, one for all, the whole musketeer motto mumbo-jumbo that he finally understood. For as long as he could remember, Angel had been the enemy. The one who had to be taken out. Now, Spike saw him just as a really pathetic vampire who couldn't get any.

And the mate really couldn't get any. Literally, figuratively, although… the werewolf chick had been into him for awhile. He really didn't want to ponder on this anymore, he must be in bad straits if he was thinking of Angel's love-life in the middle of a fight.

Sorry thing was, these idiotic morons couldn't fight worth a damn. Even with the little baby in his arms, still quiet after all this time, he was kicking major demon ass! Rock on to him!

"Take that." He smirked as another hit the floor. "The big-bad's back."

Hmph. He straightened his jacket as he left the room, that had been a good warm-up round. Now the real pooches were on their way.

Holy ever-lasting hell. There was more than a shit-load of demons here, there was a Lord of the Rings army-sized battalion, mates. He was dust, he knew it. Ashes on the wind, the candle that had flickered out… it was the four of them against the hell on earth evil they were up against.

Wesley had already been taken, he felt a small flash of regret at that. The Englishman had always been good with the books, he had the smarts and skills that took him through life with a stern look on his face and a muffled song in his heart.

The first of them were taken out, but good ol' Wes had finished what he had been assigned. He'd died in the heat of battle, the death any warrior would want. He was the lucky one, faced with undefeatable odds and almost certain death, he remembered a quote he'd heard a long time ago.

Courage is being scared shitless, but still sticking around to get the job done. The job would be done, tally finalized. It was time.


	2. Gunn

Gunn

Authors Note: So what do you think? Have I kept characters in… character? Lol. Sorry, I know I ask that a lot, but it's just that if there's a complaint that kills me it's reading that someone thinks I'm not true to characters. sigh I couldn't BE more careful, I try so hard. So feedback is much appreciated, and if you don't think they are… reasons, so I can try to fix it?

"Let's move'em out, boys." Annie stretched wincing a little. "One more and we've got it done."

"Thanks for everything." Gunn said carefully giving her a hug, "You wouldn't believe what you've done for us."

"Well you came back, didn't you." She grinned, "Make sure you stop by again. We can use the muscle."

"Anytime." Gunn replied hoping he'd be able to keep his promise. He slipped the check into her back pocket as he pulled away.

"Take care of yourself, Gunn." She clapped him on the back affectionately.

He'd be sure to try too, before he turned the corner he looked back embracing a child-hood he'd never had, and a future that lay in the balance.

It was just like old times, fighting vampires, righting wrongs, beating one future would-be senator. She looked quite becoming with the hatchet protruding from her forehead. A picture is a thousand words, that picture would have been great on tabloids around the city.

Gunn didn't laugh as he headed towards the alleyway. He knew that Spike and Angel would be there, those two were the champions, the _real_ muscle of the group. If they weren't alive, there was no hope for any of them.

He understood the risks Angel had asked them to take, the odds associated with fate. Gunn didn't believe in fate, he controlled his own destiny, and contrary to what Alyria might think; he had a lot left in him than ten minutes.

He would fight, for Annie, for all the kids she had yet to help… for the world in general. He had to believe that there was some good out there, looking around him he saw three of them.

Wesley hadn't made it, Gunn gave him a silent moment's silence. Their friendship had been rocky at best, but underneath the cold façades there had been true caring. Two men with one woman between them, but they had been friends first. They would remain friends even at the end, it had come sooner for Wes, but that's what life was.

A mix of time and space, he knew best of all that neither of them meant much. Wes would have been there with them if he could, he was a man who would sacrifice anything for those he cared about. Just like any one of them would. Just like they _were_. For the world. For the world's people. For past friend-ships and those yet to come. But most of all for the look on the senior partners faces as they realized just who was in charge.

Clenching his hands so the blood sluiced through his palms, he pictured the enemies blood there instead. The fear that threatened to erupt was tampered, he was a man who accepted death. There was a lot that these monsters would have to do in order to take down Charles Gunn. A whole helluva lot, bring it on, boys. Let the games begin.


	3. Wesley

Chapter 3 Authors Note: **Tariq**- Hi! Im glad that you liked it, more's definitely coming! **Ravenia**- awesome s/n by the way, I agree with you. People who don't keep characters true.. that's why I try so hard to make their personalities match. I hope you like the Wesley POV... and any main character that's been here through the seasons will be included in this fic. Yay **Scarlett**- I know!! Buffyverse is gone too, they couldn't save us anything to curb the pain. Lol.  
  
Wesley  
  
It all seemed somehow fitting, magic had started Wesley's career and now would be the end of it. There was so much bad in the world, he sometimes wondered if they were making any bit of difference.  
  
What if nothing they did mattered, the world would keep turning one way or the other. The corruption, violence, sheer hatred that escalated every year was only off-set by the random acts of kindness people showed. As the years went by, the good deeds were surpassed by the evil ones. They were fighting a losing battle.  
  
That was the only reason he sat in the cold dining hall of the demon sitting in front of him. He had to face facts, Fred was gone and she was never coming back. There had been so many people who had been lost to him, she was the only one of them who truly mattered to him.  
  
As a watcher he had learned to separate truth from illusion. Fates jerking them around, the blind had been pulled over their eyes. There are those who fight, fight a losing battle because that's what they do. That's the grand illusion.  
  
There is no truth, only a mix of deeds and actions that binds them to civility's facts.  
  
Men live and die everyday. There was no exception to the rule, even vampires had weaknesses that could render them to ashes.  
  
He had no regrets, all the decisions he made had been thought through to the utmost finality. Though the outcomes of those decisions hadn't always benefited him, in the long run everyone was better off that way.  
  
He unleashed the power that Angel had given him and felt the first stirring of fear. It wouldn't work, he knew that, this demon was far too powerful for any of their magicks. If this was what his sacrifice was, then so be it.  
  
Angel wouldn't have sent him if it wasn't absolutely necessary. They all had their parts to play. This was the role of a century.  
  
The wound was mortal, he knew it as Illyria did. It seemed impossible that he feel remorse for her predicament. Had it not been for her, Fred would still be alive. His Fred. That's what made accepting the job Angel had given him so easy. Death, it didn't matter anymore, his life was a dull shade of colors that blurred and spun in revolting display.  
  
Life held no pleasure for him anymore, he went through the motions and drunk away whatever sorrow that was left. Illyria he could relate to in a way no one else would ever understand.  
  
From his start as a watcher in the Council, through all the betrayals, the good times, friend's he'd watched die... life had still gone on. Cordelia was gone, she had never come out of the coma after their first apocalypse.  
  
Lorne, Angel, Gunn, Cordelia, and Fred had been the first team. He hadn't been around for Doyle's time, but he'd known enough of the other man to feel remorse over never being able to meet him.  
  
Help the helpless, that had been their motto and what the business card said. That's what Angel staked his soul on ever day. Every damn day, they had all grown and changed as people. This was what it all came down too. Then Illyria came and everything he'd once known turned upside down.  
  
It was true, he had hated with such a fiery passion it seemed hard to conceive. He still thought that's why she trusted, if the word trust could even be used, him above all the others. Hatred, pain, suffering, and chaos was all she had been able to understand.  
  
Now she would be alone again, her land gone, never to be able to return home. She was though a part of who Fred used to be. He owed it to Fred to make sure the sacrifice she had given wouldn't be forgotten.  
  
He would finally be able to be with her, he could see her face above him. Blue clung to her once magnificent shining mahogany hair, the face was distorted into ice-blue eyes that stared through him with none of her love. Illyria couldn't grasp what love was.  
  
The pain ebbed away and fog took over his mind. The demon wasn't dead, he knew he didn't have the power to kill him. All that Angel asked was that he do his best, make a distraction, keep him preoccupied. Illyria was the answer, she had the power and strength to kill him once and for all.  
  
She was magic, purely and ultimately made up of something that should never have been. If there was no such thing as truth, no barrier between truth and illusion, then what did it matter?  
  
Did he want her to become Fred, for the last moment in his life, at his passing... he would be able to die in her arms. The warrior finally coming home.  
  
"Everything'll be alright..." He heard her cry, felt the tears drop onto his arm and face, he was hers. She squeezed his hand and he heard her sob even harder. His Fred.  
  
He let the darkness take him and was welcomed into her embrace. The smile on her face, the same quirky cuteness that had attracted him to her in the first place. She was exactly as he had strove to remember her, no longer a hollow 'shell', she was all beauty, light, and goodness.  
  
"I was waitin' for ya." She giggled.  
  
"I know." For the first time in so many months he was at peace, there was no more darkness in his heart, soul, mind, "Something time took from me last time." He looked down into her eyes. "I love you, too."  
  
"I heard ya." She leaned her head on his shoulder, "Its what kept me here, waiting."  
  
"I've missed you so much, Fred." He said tremulously closing his eyes. "I'll never let you go again."  
  
"I won't ever leave you, Wesley." She said simply, "Its how it should be."  
  
His body remained on earth while his spirit soared higher than the clouds. Wesley Wyndham Price had finally found his place in the world. He was home. 


	4. Harmony

Chapter 4 Authors Note: Harmony isn't a MAJOR character, but she KIND OF became one when they introduced her to the show. She was in Buffy for the longest, Spike would know. Muhaha. So I've decided to add her, any complaints and I'll contemplate deleting the chapter, but the whole story cant be angst...  
  
It wasn't fair, not at all. In Harmony's opinion, there was no life after high-school. Things were just... hard! Although a few of those hard things she had enjoyed, but getting a job? Keeping the job!  
  
Life as a vampire wasn't easy. All the movies said it was, they got their mate, lived happily ever after under the full moon. If she couldn't believe movies, what was there left to believe in?  
  
Saks Fifth. She had always wanted to go here! The beautiful, polished, locked door. Since when had she ever let something as pithy as locks keep her from designer dresses and stiletto heels?  
  
Reaching through the metal beams that protected the door, she pushed it inward and watched as the doorknob went rolling. Pulling the grate away wasn't a problem either, she pulled the security cameras from the walls and knocked a guard unconscious.  
  
The walls were white, which reminded her of heaven, which reminded her of Angel. Angel. He had never had any confidence in her. Not once. At all. Just go get me this, go fetch me that, don't raid the blood bank.  
  
It wasn't fair. Guests got the virgin blood! What did she get? Pigs blood, that's what. She had forfeited nourishment, the second largest mansion to be near him, hers was only the fourth largest mansion in the country now.  
  
It was all his fault, and Hamilton really hadn't been that bad. A man who knew so many different... moves, totally couldn't be as evil as they all thought. It had defiantly been a job, like, so well done, and the information he'd managed to get out of her had been well worth the rewards.  
  
Angel could handle himself, what did she care if he was injured a little? He was a vampire, by morning he'd be right as rain again. So, like, as long as he didn't end up dead, which was what Hamilton had promised, she had done nothing to violate the employers' clause in her contract.  
  
She had a nice recommendation letter now, a bonus in her salary, and plenty of money to spend. She didn't even want to get another job, she could go anywhere, feed from anyone she wanted.  
  
Spike didn't even notice her anymore, he was too preoccupied with the Slayer. Buffy this, Buffy that, the whole thing turned her stomach. Considering she didn't have the muscles to make her organs move, that was saying something.  
  
Lately Angel had been dating a werewolf girl, but their relationship totally wouldn't work out anyway. Everyone knew that Angel couldn't have any fun without letting go the hold on his soul.  
  
She had tried to tell him that, but he'd sent her to get something for Wesley instead of actually listening. He never listened. Spike either, now that he and Illyria were playing dominatrix... she couldn't even get him to call her 'love' anymore.  
  
Anyway, it didn't matter. They'd all go off and fight their little battle, when they could be here with her shopping. Their loss. So many dresses, so little time. What to wear. Satin? Silk? Polyester, eww.  
  
She saw the flashlight through the dark confines of the store. Another guard. Oh, yum. This one was young, she could hear the blood rush through his veins. The sigh that escaped his lips in boredom.  
  
The food had arrived, she just hoped that all the calories wouldn't go to her hips. She'd never be able to fit into the red dress if that happened. Shrugging, she smiled and prepared to wait for him. Closer... closer...  
  
Authors Note 2: Oh wow, this was a lot harder to write than I expected. I felt my IQ points drop by a good ten points. Its like watching Legally Blonde 1 and 2 in a row. Groan. My brain needs to rest, maybe I should go and find Sable... Sands'd make this horrid affinity go away. Hm... 


End file.
